


Flood

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Embarrassment, F/M, Friendship, Horny Teenagers, Humiliation, Lust at First Sight, Memories, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Female Clothed Male, Non-Human Genitalia, Other, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Premature Ejaculation, Public Humiliation, Sappy Ending, Situational Humiliation, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Wet Clothing, technically coming in shirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Londo's first trip to a strip club leads to an embarrassing moment...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flood

**Author's Note:**

> While at a comic convention recently, I got to thinking about Babylon 5, and things I love about Londo, and things I love about men in general. I have a real weakness for premature ejaculation and people coming in their pants - I can't explain what I like about it - I just think it's basically one of my favorite things to write about.
> 
> So here is young man!Londo with best buddy!Urza going to his first strip club, getting flustered, and coming in his shirt, and then remembering it later when he's older and less prone to spontaneously ejaculating at the sight of some hot Centauri back-vagina.
> 
> Also, I managed to work in some Londo/Adira fluff at the end because damn it, they're adorable.
> 
> (As always, it's late and I'm unbeta'd so any errors/typos are my fault. Fanon terms are credited to Andraste and Thingswithwings)

* * *

The dancer is fantasy made manifest - Londo is sure of this. In his later life, he will be proved wrong, as he will learn time and time again that this plain-faced girl with her lank hair and her bored, pinched expression was mediocre entertainment at best, but when he first lays eyes on her, he is a young man, and she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.  
  
Urza flashes him a knowing look, a non-verbal 'I told you so' as he settles into his seat at the secluded club. They are both young, rowdy and impetuous and burning too hot with curiosity and lust. Their cavorting has led them to a new and strange world this night, and Londo feels every bit the adventurer - as brave and brazen as if he was discovering some new civilization beyond the stars.  
  
It is Londo's first time in an establishment that caters to these particular needs.  
  
The music and the closeness and the dark anonymity that blankets the room makes him feel powerful and terrified all at once. The girl sways her body fluidly, hypnotically, illuminated by a single focused light, and as she flips her greasy braid over her shoulder, she looks him straight in the eye.  
  
She does not smile.  
  
Londo is petrified. His chest is throbbing with an unbearable ache and he can't breathe. The girl keeps staring at him, staring into him, as she peels off her beaded costume, slowly unveiling inch after inch of smooth, tanned skin. Londo is in awe. He has seen paintings, drawings, statues of nude females, but nothing like this - she is a living, breathing creature, and he is at her mercy.  
  
She bites her lip and winks at him.  
  
Urza's voice is a hot blast against Londo's ear, an eager staccato, tight with his own arousal.  
  
"This is the best part!"  
  
She turns her back to the audience. It is too much. Londo has to cover his mouth with his hand to muffle a cry as his lowermost right brach spasms suddenly inside his shirt, followed by two others going off in a similar manner. All at once, he is drenched, and can feel the evidence of his most embarrassing misfortune soaking through his shirt into his vest.  
  
Urza is gaping at him, wide-eyed with comprehension.  
  
"Did you -?"  
  
Londo can't reply. His words are all caught in the back of his throat, where a lump is forming. The dancer, continuing on with her act, oblivious to his humiliation, swims before his eyes through a film of tears that he blinks away hastily. He is grateful for the darkness of the room, now more than ever.  
  
"I have to go," he hisses under his breath. Urza looks torn between laughter and genuine concern.  
  
"Borrow my coat?" he asks and Londo shakes his head, though Urza's buttons down the front where his does not. His pride could not withstand such a loan at a time like this.  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
"I'll go with you -"  
  
"That won't be necessary."  
  
As Londo leaves, he is sure that everyone is staring at him. He knows this cannot be, not when the girl is still on the stage, but it is as though every eye in every skull of everyone on Centauri Prime is upon him. He keeps his head down and his arms crossed, convinced that those who he hurries past in the street can smell the stain that's ruined his second-best shirt.  
  
The journey home is an uncomfortable one. The affected clothes are so stiff by the time he reaches his bed chamber that they crack and stick to themselves when he removes them. Here, hidden in his room, he lets the heat in his eyes spill over in a flood of tears. He feels like a small child, afraid of having someone find out he's wet his bed sheets. He wonders if Urza will tell anyone. He wonders if the girl noticed, and if this is a common occurrence. He can't believe it is - he is certain that all the statesmen and the military officers, the powerful grown men who regularly frequent such places, have perfect control over themselves.  
  
Sniffling, Londo picks up his dirty clothes, balls them up, and stuffs them under his bed. He will have to wash them later, privately, somehow. If the household staff sees, then gossip will spread, and he can't risk that.  
  
He buries the memory deep in the back of his mind, and doesn't think of it again until he is much older.

The recollection surfaces, of all times, when Londo is in bed with Adira. She must see some flicker of it in his eyes, for her expression softens and she strokes his face.  
  
"Whatever troubles you, it cannot reach you here. When you are with me, nothing else needs to matter."  
  
Londo responds by kissing her, and sighs as his brachiarti wind around her waist and nudge against her back. He lets his mind replace his youthful shame, rewriting history with fresh accounts of Adira, of the way she dances and the way she moves, and the way he can watch her, composed and content, and gladly return her smile. 

 


End file.
